


Hidden Memories

by bluewerewolfprose, Nicolareed



Series: Drabbles In Darkness [10]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Crying, Emotional Hurt, Episode Prompto gave me feels okay, Nightmares, Not Quite Home in Darkness, Other, Poor Prompto, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 12:27:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluewerewolfprose/pseuds/bluewerewolfprose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicolareed/pseuds/Nicolareed
Summary: In which Prompto breaks down.





	Hidden Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Not Quite Home In Darkness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9365735) by [Nicolareed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicolareed/pseuds/Nicolareed). 



> Hey, lovelies! I wanted to write fluff for my Prompto drabble, I really did. But it didn't happen, and I'm very sorry. Thanks to everyone who reads and comments, you give me life!  
> Enjoy!

_Inspired by Chapter 15 of Not Quite Home In Darkness, by Nicolareed_

* * *

 

Prompto glanced back at Noct as he gathered his clothing from the chair where Ignis had left it. He was already asleep again. Only Noct could go from having a rational conversation to deep slumber in less than thirty seconds. Prompto couldn’t help smiling at the way his black hair flopped over his face, ruffling slightly with every breath. His smile faded slowly as the nightmare that had woken him bubbled up in his mind. No matter how many times Noct pulled him out of it, he still couldn’t bring himself to talk about it.

“Shower,” he muttered to himself under his breath. “Right.”

He quietly shut the bathroom door behind him and stepped in front of the small mirror, slowly unwrapping the bandages from around his torso. He winced as they fell away, revealing a mess of fading scars, left by the Coeurl that had attacked them earlier that day. The whole disaster looked worse because of the dried blood and dirt still smeared across his skin. It was a miracle he was still alive, he knew, let alone conscious, but Noct had got to him quickly. He sighed, running his fingers along the raised, and still-tender edge of a long, straight line that ran from just below his left shoulder to his lowest right rib. It wasn’t the first scar he’d got, and it wouldn’t be the last—not to mention it would be gone within the day, just like most of the others. No, it wasn’t the Coeurl that was bothering him, although the marks of its claws itched like a bitch now that he could see them. He huffed sharply, his breath fogging the mirror so he could no longer see his reflection, and turned away to the shower.

As the hot water ran through his hair, carrying away the worst of the day’s filth, he imagined the nightmare running away with it, leaching out of his mind, like a toxin that could be washed away, like pus draining from an infected wound. But it was always there. No matter how many times he forced himself to let it go, practiced relaxing his muscles one by one, focused on his breathing, the memories stayed where they were, burrowed so deep into his mind that he could never excise them. And he could never, ever talk about them, not even to Noct.

He felt tears sting his eyes and closed them, letting the water wash over his face and carry them away. It hurt more than anything, this secrecy, this constant fear. He knew what would happen if Noct ever found out what he was, where he had really come from.

 _What if he already knows? He had years to find out before. What if he knows_? Prompto opened his mouth and let it fill with water, spitting it onto the floor of the shower as if he was spitting out the idea. If Noct knew, he would have said. There was no way he’d willingly travel with— _with someone like me_. Not if he knew.

But they’d spent so long together, sleeping in the same beds, fighting the same battles, sharing the same fears and agonies. Could he really expect that he could keep his secret for that long? He’d never expected to be able to keep it as long as he had, let alone into adulthood. He’d just taken every day as it came, cherishing every moment with Noct, then with Ignis and Gladio, and now with Luna. He had nightmares about that too—about the accusations Gladio would fling at him, the disappointment in Ignis’s eyes, Luna’s shocked exclamation. And Noct. Noct wouldn’t say anything. He’d just sit there, his eyes on the ground, refusing to look up at the man who’d betrayed him.

He found himself staring down at his wrist, at the marks he tried so hard not to look at, at the slightly raised skin that criss-crossed the indelible tattoo he’d tried too many times to remove. He suddenly scratched at it, his blunt nails doing little damage, although the tips of his fingers dug in deep enough to bruise. Why him? Why did he have to carry this ugly, evil _Thing_? Why was he faulty, broken, damaged goods?

Prompto suddenly found himself crouched on the floor of the shower cubicle, trying desperately to hold in the great, heaving sobs that wanted to force themselves out of his throat. He pressed a hand over his mouth, and another to his chest, which felt like it was being slowly torn in two. _It isn’t fair_. He choked on another wave of sobs and prayed no one would wake and come looking for him. He couldn’t bear for them to see him like this, huddled in one corner, rocking helplessly back and forth as he tried to shed a grief he couldn’t explain. Not to anyone.

He stayed like that for a long time.

When the worst of it passed, he stood again, his limbs stiff and cold where they’d been outside the spray of the water. He washed himself carefully, slowly scrubbing away what was left of his own blood, cleaning under his fingernails, and splashing his face over and over with water so all traces of tears were washed away.

He didn’t look at himself in the mirror again as he dressed, didn’t look again at his wrist as he covered it. He focused once more on the sound of his breathing, on the smooth slide of the fabric as he pulled on his shirt, on the cold of the tiles under his bare feet. The storm of emotion that had overtaken him in the shower was left to trickle down the drain with the soap and blood and dirt. He was tired again now, more than tired—it was all he could do to shuffle back to the bunk and crawl in beside Noct. He raised himself on his elbow for a moment, looking down at Noct’s sleeping face. Whatever Noct knew or didn’t know, whatever he might learn in the future, for now, he was here, and real, and the best thing Prompto had ever known.

He snuggled down next to Noct and laid his head on his chest, wrapping one arm around his waist. He fell asleep quickly, and didn’t dream anything more for the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr @bluewerewolfprose, come say hi!


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